Rat Pack
by sagdragon3002
Summary: Chronicles told mostly from the Cage family perspective as the Defenders learn domestic life may be more difficult than warfare. An AU Johnny and Sonya pairing series, used to be known as 'Late Notice.'
1. Late Notice

Disclaimer: Well, if I owned MK, DOTR would have its very own channel, would never have an end to brand new episodes, and Johnny would be in it. Key word: _if_. If you can't read through my thinly-veiled lamentation, I will spell it out for you: I. Do. Not. Own. MK. Boo-hoo.

Summary: Johnny is on-set for his newest movie. He's missed a few calls. An AU drabble one-shot. Not one of my best works; just something that hit me on a whim.

* * *

Stretching to relax the muscles in his neck, Johnny sat himself in his trailer and sighed with happiness. His newest movie (_Sudden Violence II: Evil Red_) was two months into filming, and he had just finished an intensive fight scene. And, after checking a mirror, his make-up was still flawless.

It took a real man to wear make-up, Johnny knew. It also took a real man to accept all the teasing and prodding his wife threw at him in regards to his perfect foundation.

Speaking of whom, he should check to see if Sonya called him recently. She was eight months pregnant and hating it terribly; Jax had to drive her home more than once from Special Forces headquarters when she snuck from the house out of boredom.

Picking up his cell and flipping it open, he saw eight unheard messages in his voicemail. Raising a brow, Johnny put the phone to his ear and proceeded to listen to the messages.

_"Eh, Johnny?"_ Kurtis Stryker, the newest recruit to the O.I.A. and also one Johnny had help Jax to keep an eye on Sonya, sounded worried. _"Are you there? Pick up, please, I hate leaving messages. . . . . I think . . . I think you ought to come home. We're not sure, because Sonya's not being cooperative on the subject, but . . . I think her water broke. I'm going to try and get her to spit it out, so don't panic just yet. I'll update you as soon as I can, talk to you later."_

Johnny blinked. Sonya . . . in labor _now_? Nah, Stryker _had_ said he wasn't certain. He was just reading too much into Sonya's temper.

Then again . . . Stryker wasn't exactly a stranger to Sonya's habits. Maybe . . .

The next message started, halting his thoughts. Again, Stryker had left it.

_"Johnny Cage, pick up your damn phone! Dammit, why the hell don't you bring your phone everywhere with you like all the other egocentric actors? Sonya's water broke; she's in labor right no-aaaaaah!"_ Stryker's scream made Johnny pull the phone away, and he cautiously put it back when the screech faded. _"Jesus, Sonya, did you have to squeeze so hard—ow, ow, ow, stop hitting me I can't drive if you're hitting me! Johnny, dammit, when you get this message get your ass over here as soon as you can!"_

Frozen, Johnny could only sit as the phone continued to play back the messages.

_"Johnny, where the hell are you?"_ Jax's angry voice reverberated over the phone. _"Sonya's in labor, didn't you get Stryker's messages? **You're** the one who's supposed to be getting his hand crushed, not Stryker or Sub-Zero! **Get your damn ass over here right now or I swear I'm gonna crush you into puree**!"_

_". . . . Is this thing on?"_ Sub-Zero, voice uncertain, started haltingly, _"Johnny? I hope you realize Sonya's about to declare you a dead man when you return to D.C. And Stryker doesn't appreciate you leaving him to be the one holding Sonya's hand. She already broke one knuckle on his hand—"_ Another pause as two screams, one male and one female, rented the background, then he began again, _"Make that a knuckle and a finger, now. Johnny, while I do understand that patience and control is important to surviving under normal circumstances . . . this isn't a normal circumstance. You're dangerously close to a rather excruciatingly painful death."_

Sonya wasn't due for another month. He couldn't believe she was in labor _now_ of all times. Not while he was on the other side of the country.

This was a bad joke. Was Raiden trying to pull his leg? No, not even Raiden would try this. Sonya had made it very clear what would happen if anyone tried to use their unborn child as a gag.

_"Hey, Johnny, it's Nightwolf. Just wanted to let you know, Sonya's in good hands. We're all wondering, though, if you're alright? You haven't returned any of our calls, and we're getting worried. Stryker's losing fingers to break, and Jax is heading to radiology right now to check his wrist. You're strongly missed right now; I know Sonya would like it if you showed up sometime soon . . . preferably before the baby arrives."_

_"Johnny, come on, by now you must have gotten the others' messages,"_ Liu had called next, concern in his voice. _"Have you left L.A. yet? I'm not too sure how long Sonya has before the baby comes. The doctor says her cervix is five centimeters . . . You gotta get over here. Time's running out."_

_"This is Kitana, Johnny. Where are you? Sonya's truly worried; she's refusing to deliver the baby until you come. Please, call back as soon as you get this message. We really need to know if you're okay."_

Johnny was struggling to get his body into gear, but his mind was stuck in a rut. His jaw was working up and down, trying to shout to an invisible audience that his wife was giving birth.

Then Sonya's voice startled him.

_"God damn it, Johnny! Where the hell are you! I'm giving birth to your baby, and you aren't answering your damn phone! If you leave me with Jax in the delivery room, **I am going to make you sleep on the couch for the rest of the year!** Get over here right now befo—"_ Sonya's scream drove Johnny out of his chair, his trailer, and into the street screaming for the limo to take him immediately to the private runway, leaving the phone lying on the floor of his trailer as the message finished, _"—**dammit Jonathan Carlton Cage GET OVER HERE!**"

* * *

_

"Here's your baby girl, Mr. Cage," a nurse smiled at the new father, blushing slightly. When she had chosen a medical career, she hadn't dreamed she'd get so close to a movie star! "Be sure to support the head."

"Thank you," Johnny breathed, handling the baby gently. He didn't remember when he had last taken his breath, but it was a minor detail as he gazed down at his baby. She was so beautiful . . .

Johnny perched himself on the side of Sonya's bed, switching his loving gaze from the baby to her. She smiled tiredly at him, reaching over with a hand to gently brush her fingers against the baby's cheek. "Thank you for giving me this blessing," Johnny whispered to her.

"Mm, and I'll thank you for not holding the black eye against me," Sonya replied, raising her hand to glide over the swollen, black skin around his eye.

Johnny grinned. As soon as he had burst into the delivery room, Sonya had punched him and screamed at him that she'd hate him with every fiber of her being for the rest of her life. Apparently labor _strongly_ affected women's dispositions. "It's alright; I probably deserved it. I should've stayed in D.C., what with you being only a month away from delivering."

"Yeah, you should have," Sonya arched a brow at him. "You left me with nothing to do except watch TV and sneak into headquarters. And since when did Stryker and Jax listen to _you_ over _me_?"

"Since I told them the one who kept you at home would get paid best," Johnny joked, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Ha ha," Sonya retorted, tracing a finger around her daughter's forehead. "So, what's the damage?"

"Stryker's entire right hand is broken, and Jax's wrist needs to stay in a splint for three to five weeks," Johnny recounted, giving Sonya their daughter to hold. "Liu, Kitana, and Nightwolf are fine, but strangely Sub-Zero needed stitches on his forehead. How'd that happen?"

Sonya looked down shamefully. "I got frustrated, and threw a vase. Stryker ducked, but Sub-Zero never saw it coming."

Johnny chuckled. "Don't worry, they understand. They're more upset with me than you; they firmly believe if I had come when I should have, they would have been spared most of the injuries."

"Well, it's true," Sonya told him. "Did you offer compensation?"

"I've paid their bills. Since I have a pretty hefty bank account, they claimed that it wasn't much reparation."

"So. . ." Sonya narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going.

"I offered one of them could be godfather," Johnny said slowly.

Sonya considered that, and sighed. "Wonderful. The godfather of my daughter will either be a reclusive warrior that freezes his hot chocolate, a brawny Major with a penchant for technology, or a former New York officer with horrendous driving skills. Such a selection to choose from. Maybe we should just make all three of them godfather, just to cover all the bases. Especially since this is the last time I _ever_ give birth."

"Heh, well, let's save that decision for tomorrow, honey," Johnny hugged and kissed his wife, thinking to himself, _Best not tell her right now that I promised all three their own godchild. I'm not sure she'd appreciate that._


	2. Late Night

A/N: So…..I had the intention of leaving this as a one-shot. A looming midterm and very nice reviews have made me decide I want to continue this. Le sigh. And thanks aplenty to my roommate, who puts up with my random questions and actually answers them. Warning: innuendo at the very end. If you don't see it, then you should probably take stock in the whole "ignorance is bliss" concept.

And for those unfamiliar with my works, this is based on MK: Defenders of the Realm. The only characters I own are Lilith, Russell, Chow (not Liu's brother), Elliot, Darcy, and Rayne, who is based off some character in the MK Malibu comics. Most are cameo appearances and/or referenced in passing anyhow, so don't be concerned keeping everyone straight.

_

* * *

3 Years Later _

"Johnny, leave the grill alone," Sonya advised her husband as he hovered over the turned-off machine. "Jax'll kill you if you ruin the food."

"C'mon, don't you trust me?" Johnny asked plaintively, looking over his shoulder at her.

"With our one-year-old son, yes," Sonya tickled the belly of the aforementioned son in her arms, who gurgled and kicked his feet in delight. "With our three-year-old daughter, of course. But with a barbecue grill that you have no idea how to operate, absolutely not. I don't even know why you bought it in the first place."

"Because it goes great with the place," Johnny waved at the grand house behind them. "And it's to shut Jax up about me not being able to grill like the other men."

Sonya came up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Honey, I love you dearly. But owning a grill doesn't make you excellent at grilling."

Johnny pouted at her for a second before becoming distracted with his son's outstretched arms. "Alright, c'mere Russell, let's give Mommy a break, okay?" The boy babbled and fisted his father's shirt as he was transferred. "When are the others getting here for the barbecue?"

"In a little bit. Jax and Ruby are running behind schedule with the newborn, and Raiden . . . well when he got to the part about the geese attacking and monks losing hoods on their robes, I told him to get here when he could. Liu, Kitana, Sub-Zero, and Nightwolf are just going to have to wait until it's all sorted out."

"What about Kurt?" Johnny put his son into the baby chair, making faces and strange noises. Russell paused for a moment, then erupted into more giggles and clapped his hands. "It's not like he's across the ocean or country."

"He's waiting for Jax and Ruby," Sonya replied. "Stryker's letting Jax use his truck to carry over the charcoal and other stuff we need for the barbecue."

"I still say I could have bought it all," Johnny grumbled.

"And I still agree with Jax and Stryker in that you would have bought the 'classy' charcoal," Sonya rebutted. "That's no stuff to barbecue with."

There was loud honking, and their daughter Lilith Cage looked up from her coloring book. She exclaimed, "That's Uncle Kurt's truck!"

"Yes it is, Lilith," Sonya nodded, lifting up her daughter. "You wanna go meet Uncle Kurt?"

"Yeah!" Lilith clapped. "Wanna see Uncle Kurt!"

With a passing warning to Johnny to keep the grill off, Sonya rounded the house to the driveway. Stryker's truck was followed by Jax's SUV, and the passengers got out of their respective vehicles. From her angle, Sonya could see a bulge in Stryker's truck bed. She let Lilith run to Stryker with cries of, "Uncle Kurt! Uncle Jax! Aunt Ruby!" Following Lilith at a slower pace, Sonya finally saw the truck bed fully, with its load of lump charcoal and other assorted barbecue necessities. "Stryker, Jax, what is all this? We are having an eight-hour barbecue, not an eight-day party."

"Hey, you gotta be prepared," Jax answered with a chuckle. "With the kind of group we have, we don't know what's going to happen."

"Not much," Ruby put in, carrying a blue-wrapped bundle. "We have to make sure these kids stay safe."

"Wanna see baby!" Lilith cried, squirming in Stryker's arms. He set a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her steady, and drew closer to Ruby so the girl could peek at the baby boy. Dark eyes blinked up at the blonde girl, and the baby turned his face to his mother's breast.

"This is a great initiation to the family," Stryker remarked as Lilith cooed over the baby. "Good food, good company, and Johnny trying to match wits with a thunder god and snarky comments from all around."

"Alright, everyone, let's get this to the backyard," Sonya climbed into the bed of the truck, took a good, long look at the load, then turned to the owner. "How about you drive this into the backyard, Stryker? That way we don't kill our backs transferring everything."

* * *

Several hours later, Lilith and Russell were put to bed (much to Lilith's displeasure) and the Briggs' son Elliot shared Russell's crib. Chow, Liu and Kitana's two-year-old son, had put up less of a fuss getting to bed, and in a bout of devious thinking Sonya had Lilith sleep on the same bed as the boy, knowing Lilith would settle down before throwing a fit and disturbing Chow. True to her nature, the girl stopped protesting her bedtime to preserve the boy's peace. 

Children settled and daylight slowly fading, the adults moved their meal into the house. Arrayed throughout the spacious living room, with Johnny, Sonya, Liu, and Kitana sharing the couch, Jax and Ruby on the love seat, and the other four seated in sofas. Bottles of champagne and sparkling cider (for the seven-month pregnant Kitana and abstaining Nightwolf, Liu, and Sub-Zero) were passed around, though at one point Jax accused Raiden of spiking the champagne with something stronger. Raiden contended he was innocent of such a crime. Given the innocuous appearance of the liquid, most dismissed it as good-natured jesting (Jax's claim was proved correct later in the evening when Stryker began an animated conversation with a house plant and Sonya tried to provide an entertaining strip show to the men, much to Johnny's chagrin) and continued to trade well-aimed jabs and speculated as to the gender of Kitana and Liu's baby.

Eventually most of the group had crashed, whether it was in a spare bedroom, on the couch, or curled on the floor. The few that managed to stay awake (and sober enough) for a conversation were Raiden, Johnny, and Sub-Zero. Johnny had Sonya's head on his lap, running his hand through her hair with soft strokes. Sub-Zero took a pillow from the couch and slid it under Stryker's head, who had fallen unconscious on Sub-Zero's feet. Raiden returned from the children's bedroom, having finished answering the cries of Elliot and Russell whose parents were less than capable of rising out of a bed, much less taking care of the infants' needs.

"Was Russell alright?" Johnny asked softly.

"Are you kidding?" Raiden lifted a brow. "Mortal infants are simple to appease compared to immortal babies."

Johnny peered suspiciously at the god (he had, after all, lied about spiking the champagne) but dropped it in favor of keeping Sonya comfortable. "That's good."

"I'm still surprised Sonya agreed to have a second child," Sub-Zero remarked. "And that she let Stryker be godfather."

"I guess two years was enough for Sonya to want another kid," Johnny shrugged. "As for Stryker being godfather, I asked about it after she declared him so. She said something about favors and hospital stays—I let it go after she mentioned dropping a television and his laundry out of his loft."

Raiden and Sub-Zero looked at each other, then nodded in understanding. "Probably the safest course of action," Raiden agreed. "Any plans on making Russell a middle child?"

"If there are, I haven't been privy to them," Johnny replied. "What about you, Sub-Zero? Any girlfriends you've been hiding away from us?"

"If I am," Sub-Zero said evenly, "it's highly unlikely I'm going to spill it now."

Stryker mumbled under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "Darcy," and "bed." The three men all shared a glance, one that promised trouble and nagging for the police officer in the very near future.

Johnny smiled down at his beautiful wife, who he knew was not going to feel very beautiful the following morning if Raiden's tampering of the champagne had anything to say about it. And when he looked up, he saw Raiden with a permanent marker in one hand kneeling over Stryker's prone, drooling form.

"For crying out loud, Raiden, first spiking the champagne then this?" Johnny stared. "What's up? Got dared by some other god to make your mortals miserable tonight?"

Raiden tossed a condescending look over his shoulder, saying, "I have some pent-up energy that I've been dying—no irony intended—to release. My wife isn't letting me have my fun at home, so you guys get the brunt of it." And with that, he began to draw characters on Stryker's face. Johnny recognized some as Chinese, Arabic, and other Far and Middle East languages. Sub-Zero snorted and made some sort of comment about, "not being tall enough" which Johnny chose to take as an insult toward Stryker. When Raiden rose and cast his eyes about for his next victim, Johnny covered Sonya with a protective arm and used his best, intimidating glare at Raiden. The god simply lifted a brow, shook his head, and moved on to Liu.

"So, how exactly is your wife preventing you from having fun?" Johnny spoke after a moment. "Is she withholding the sex?"

"I'll pretend you didn't infer that I can't be charming enough to escape the doghouse," Raiden retorted, not pausing from his task of drawing an elaborate cockroach on Liu's cheek. "And for your information, Rayne refuses to let me cook our meals."

"This is a bad thing?" Sub-Zero inquired doubtfully.  
"It is when her cooking is second worse only to my five hundred-year-old son. Even Shinnok—may he burn in the eternal flames of the Netherealm for the rest of his long life—was a better cook than her. Besides, I like cooking. It's calming."

"If you say so," Johnny frowned, remembering his own attempts at the elusive art. The fire department had had a field day when they first realized the one who kept burning his kitchen down was none other than the A-list celebrity Johnny Cage.

Sonya swore she'd give Lilith and Russell the videotape of Johnny's last failed attempt at cooking breakfast as a birthday gift in the future, complete with the fire chief pleading with Johnny to stop cooking and rabid fans and paparazzi trying to get a glimpse of the humiliated actor.

_Maybe I ought to let Raiden draw on Sonya's face . . ._

But, no. While Raiden seemed fairly assured of his ability to entice his wife to bed, Johnny _knew_ that Sonya had a strong will. If she said he was sleeping on the couch for some wrong deed, he generally slept on the couch for the majority of the time for which she sentenced him.

Stretching with a groan, Johnny got up with Sonya in his arms. "Alright, I'm heading to bed. Feel free to crash wherever, Sub."

"What about me?" Raiden asked plaintively.

"I thought you had a loving wife with no grudges to whom you could go home," Sub-Zero pointed out.

"I said I _can_ escape the doghouse, I didn't say I _wasn't_ in the doghouse. If I go up there right now, I'm liable to lose an eye. Or something in a region more south of my head."

"Fine," Johnny rolled his eyes. "But if I wake up and Sonya's face is painted with permanent marker—"

"I'll leave Sonya alone, I swear," Raiden grinned.

Johnny felt he ought to be nervous about Raiden's good humor. But with the pleasant buzz of alcohol in his system and the alluring thought of a comfortable bed, Johnny put it aside, said goodnight, and went to their bedroom.

* * *

The sound of violent vomiting woke Johnny up, though he was a bit confused as to why. Not only was the vomiting sounding in stereo, but Sonya wasn't pregnant again—was she? Johnny couldn't remember, especially not with the headache throbbing in his temples— 

_Oh. That's right. Damn thunder gods, their pranks, and spiked champagne._ Breathing deeply, Johnny sat up and rubbed his temples. His hangover wasn't terrible, at least. Better than Sonya's, anyhow.

But there was still the fact that there was a chorus of vomiting noises throughout his house. Thinking about the previous night, Johnny realized whose prayers to the porcelain god it was: Stryker's, the only one who had drunk as much as (if not more than) Sonya.

The toilet in the bathroom connected to their bedroom flushed, and Sonya filed out slowly, face drained of color and appearing woozy. "What the hell happened?" she groaned.

"Raiden spiked the punch," Johnny answered her sympathetically, rising up to rub her back in gentle circles. "I think you and Stryker got the worst of it. I'm pretty sober, and I don't hear either Jax or Ruby puking their guts."

"How wonderful," Sonya grumbled, then frowned at Johnny. "Hon?"

"Yeah, babe?" Johnny led her to the bed, unaware of her confusion.

"Why the hell do you have, 'World's Most Whipped Dilettante' written on your face with Peter Griffin to the side?"

Johnny blinked. Making his way slowly over to a mirror, he saw the bold, black marks across his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and around his jaw, with the aforementioned face on his left cheek.

"_Raiden!_"

As her husband ran out of the bedroom to deal with the errant thunder god, Sonya sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. Sometimes one couldn't understand a god and his intentions.

"Mommy?" Lilith came in, blonde hair messy but her eyes were alert. "What's a dile—dilee—"

"Dilettante, sweetie. It means someone who does something but they aren't truly interested in it. Your daddy isn't one, Lilith, so don't worry about it."

"Oh. Okay." Lilith paused, then asked, "Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"What's a sy—sybi—sybian?"

"_Raiden!_"

* * *

And that, as far as I know, is that. If I were to ever continue this (which I don't intend to) it would probably take a less-humorous turn and delve into the next Kombat (because, honestly, with this generation there aren't any rules keeping the tournament happening once every generation). 


	3. Bad Advice

Quickie disclaimer: I don't MK. I _do_ own Lilith, Russell, and Darcy, though. It's not much, but they're still mine. Bwahahaha.

A/N: I tried. I tried very hard to let this fic rest and go to the very special place completed fanfics go, the place that very few of mine will probably ever see. Sadly, Stryker decided to be a brat and demanded another chapter with more of him. I'm such a pushover. And there will be one more chapter after this one, since the _first_ idea that spawned _this_ chapter cannot possibly be put into this one. So, with all that, I've given up on declaring this "the last update" because it's obvious I can't follow through with my puttingmyfootdown-age.

The title also changed because it's obvious "Late Notice" no longer applies to the majority of these chapters. I apologize for any inconveniences.

* * *

_Eight Months Later_

"So what's wrong with me using the term 'dinner date?'" Johnny asked his wife plaintively as he shrugged into a decent shirt. "That's what it is. With more alcohol than dinner, granted, but there's still food involved."

"Because A) you are not a woman, which I am most grateful for," Sonya told him, patting his cheek, "and B) you are not gay, which I am even _more_ grateful for. You can say 'get-together,' you can say 'party.' Hell, you can even say 'tryst,' but if there is a naked woman trying to earn money from you I _will_ kick your ass and make you sleep in the doghouse outside. But 'dinner date' is just a little too gentle for a straight man to use."

Johnny frowned as he watched Sonya finished wiping the bathroom counter dry. "We don't have a doghouse, Sonya, inside or outside."

She turned and glared directly at him. "Completely missing the biggest issue, Johnny."

"Well, obviously I'm not going to be choosing some other woman over you, Sonya," Johnny assured her, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "But the fact still remains: we don't have a doghouse."

"Then I guess you'd be sleeping in the rain. And I'll make _sure_ there's rain before I let you back in the house." Sonya tossed the cloth into the hamper before lifting a brow and regarding her husband. "Speaking of this _get-together_, why are you having it? You talked to Jax just yesterday and neither you nor Stryker can agree to disagree about sports."

"Baseball's way better than hockey anyhow," Johnny muttered under his breath, but answered Sonya, "Jax and I decided we need to have an intervention for Strike."

Pausing, Sonya frowned at Johnny. She didn't like the sound of that. "What kind of intervention? I didn't realize Stryker had a problem in the first place."

"He's been involved with Darcy for over two years, Sonya. And we didn't even know about that relationship until eight months ago. Jax and I figured it's time he got serious about the relationship, before he loses one of the best things he's ever had."

Most definitely, Sonya had a terrible feeling about this. "Stryker is a grown man, Johnny. He can make his own decisions. Neither you or Jax should be sticking your noses into this."

"Sonya," Johnny said in a long-suffering tone, "trust us. This is for Stryker's own good. We'll nudge him in the right direction, and in a few years he'll be thanking us for kicking his ass into gear. I'll bet you Darcy's been waiting for him to make them official for a while. Just you wait and see, it'll all be good."

* * *

"You ready?" Johnny asked Jax as they sat down in the Applebee's booth. They had arrived earlier than the time set, as decided when Stryker confirmed his arrival. They needed time to prepare what they would say to the man dragging his heels in the dirt.

"Yep," Jax checked his watch. "Seven minutes til. Stryker should be here right . . . now."

Sure enough, Stryker stepped through the doors. Jax smirked at Johnny and motioned for something. Rolling his eyes, the actor paid Jax fifty dollars as Stryker found them and sat down.

"What's with the money exchange?" the policeman asked, brows furrowed.

"You're too damn habitual, Stryker," Johnny complained. "Why do you _always_ get to a place seven minutes til the dinner date?"

Stryker and Jax froze, the latter with the beer glass at his lips and Stryker in the middle of settling his napkin on his lap. "Johnny, three things," Stryker told him, patting down the cloth. "One, it's a comfort thing to be early."

"Two," Jax put in, "you aren't a woman, which Sonya is undoubtedly grateful for—"

"And three, you're not gay, which _we're_ grateful for," Stryker finished. "_Never_ use the words 'dinner date' again without using Sonya as the subject."

Johnny stared between his two male friends, then sighed. "Can we just agree that I'm metrosexual and get on with it? Are you guys decided?"

The three men ordered their meals and alcohol, and Johnny had to take a moment to sign a waitress' apron. Then Jax and Johnny focused on their goal.

"So, Kurt, how's Darcy?" Jax broached the subject with his own trademark subtlety.

"Any marriage plans in the works?" Johnny asked, also with his own sense of tact.

Stryker glared, mostly at Johnny, but Jax also was targeted. "Darcy is fine, and we're not even dating. We're just fu—riendly buddies," Stryker changed his adjective hurriedly, eyeing the table behind them with three rambunctious five-year-olds and two very anxious parents. "Marriage is not going to be topic for a good long while, if ever."

"You've been 'friendly' buddies with Darcy for over two years?" Jax raised a brow skeptically. "Most people don't have such long commitments for that kind of thing."

"It's not a commitment," Stryker muttered. "It's a mutually open understanding."

"Oh?" Johnny scoffed. "So, if she were to, say, decide she wanted to be 'buddies' with some other guy, that'd be okay?"

Stryker's hand twitched, caught off-guard by the remark. "Yeah. Of course. Except, y'know, we don't do that. Because that's not really safe."

"But she _could_," Jax prompted. "And then she might decide she doesn't want to wait around for you."

"Where the hell did waiting come from?" Stryker asked roughly. "We don't 'wait' for each other, we just . . . if we need something we just . . . shut up and drink your damn beers."

"Stryker, look," Johnny bent over, hand hanging from his wrist loosely in the man's direction, "women like men who commit. It's in their blood, practically. Darcy's not going to wait around forever for you to finally take the plunge and marry her."

The proverbial 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look was apparent in Stryker, and he stammered, "But—but Darcy's never—we haven't—"

"Just because she hasn't said anything about wanting to date and marry doesn't mean she doesn't think it, Kurt," Jax advised him sagaciously. "Trust us. She wants to go the whole nine yards. She's waiting on you, though, to see if you'll come through. But like we keep saying, Kurt, she's not going to wait forever. You're going to blink, realize how good you've got it, and she'll be gone."

Some sense appeared to have gotten through to Stryker: fright about losing Darcy was shining through his wide eyes. Exchanging a satisfied glance with Jax, Johnny sat back and enjoyed his chicken-fried steak and continued to teach Stryker in the error of his ways.

* * *

Sonya had not realized how much she would enjoy quiet until she married and had two children. With Lilith and Russell at a daycare to interact with other children and Johnny at work, Sonya had the entire house to herself.

Lying back in the recliner, Sonya folded her hands behind her head, kicked her heels up on the ottoman, and breathed out impressively. "This . . . is paradise."

As per Murphy's Law, the phone rang at that exact moment of achieved relaxation.

Grumbling, Sonya argued with herself to let it ring. However, she still remembered what it had felt like when Johnny never picked up the phone nearly four years ago for Lilith's birth (and never let him forget it either) and loathed making someone else feel the same anxiety.

So with a growled curse Sonya got up and answered the phone on the fifth ring. "Cage household, Lieutenant Blade speaking."

There was a prolonged pause at the other end, and Sonya nearly snarled a (fiercer) expletive when the person on the other end said, "Sonya?"

She blinked. The voice _sounded_ like Stryker, if he had been turned into a mouse with no self-confidence. She tried, "Stryker? Is that you?"

An audible gulp carried over the phone. "Er, yeah, i-it's me. D'you—I mean, you're probably b-busy with the kids and I'm sorry I shouldn't be bothering you now—"

"Kurt, slow down," Sonya frowned. "What the hell's wrong?"

"I-I just . . . what flowers did Johnny get you for a proposal?"

Sonya physically flinched at the unexpected question. "I hate flowers, so he didn't get me any. Where the _hell_ did _that_ come from?"

"W-well, I mean, if I propose to Darcy that means I need flowers, right? O-or was that chocolates? Fuck, I'm doing this wrong, aren't I? I mean she's wanted this for a long time and I can't do one thing right a-and now I'm going to be a failure—"

Sonya had never heard anyone in their tight-knit group of friends and comrades hyperventilate, but Stryker sounded damned close to fainting. "Stryker!"

The abrupt halt at the other end made Sonya worry she had caused Stryker to have a heart attack. Her own heart began to pump once again when Stryker whispered faintly, "Yeah?"

"Stryker, I want you to listen carefully and do everything I say. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Breathe in deeply." When she heard the corresponding sound, she added, "Breathe out slowly." At the end of his breath, she asked, "Are you sitting?"

"Uh, er, no."

"Then sit down. Once you're sitting, tell me—_calmly_—what brought all this on."

Stryker practically blubbered, but finally managed to say coherently, "Jax, Johnny, and I went out to eat last night, but they started telling me how Darcy wanted to get married 'cause all women want to get married. I-I didn't think—she never seemed to want to but—they're so damn sure—"

Gritting her teeth and swearing brimstone on her husband's head, Sonya told herself to focus on calming Stryker down first before fantasizing about her vengeance. "Alright, Stryker, listen to me. I'm going to tell you what to do, and I don't care _what_ my idiots of a partner and husband told you, this is the real deal from someone who knows how a woman's mind thinks. You listen to me, and do what I say, and everything will work out, okay?"

* * *

Sonya tapped her foot as she heard Johnny's car roll into the garage, the muscle in her jaw twitching as she read _The Art of War_.

Johnny strolled in with a hop in his step, smiling as he saw his wife and unaware of the danger into which he was mindlessly entering. "Hey, Sonya. Great day at work; just _love_ working with Alan Smithee. Such a creative genius."

"That's great, sweetie," Sonya said in a falsely cheerful tone. She got up and gave Johnny a kiss, then used her book to hit him on the head.

Johnny fell back a few steps, crying out more in surprise than pain. Rubbing his head, he eyed his angered wife in confusion and asked, "What was that for?"

"That was for the seven hours I spent calming Stryker down from his panic attack," Sonya growled, then smacked Johnny again with the book. "_That_ was on behalf of Stryker for _sending_ him into that panic attack!"

Johnny began massaging his new ache, wincing and whimpering from actual pain this time. "Why was Stryker panicked?"

"Like you don't know!" Sonya shrieked, making Johnny flinch and take a few steps back. "You and Jax told him to _marry Darcy!_"

Soundlessly opening and closing his mouth, Johnny stammered, "We-we suggested it to him, yeah. Just to nudge—"

"_Just to nudge!_" Johnny winced as Sonya's pitch hit new soprano-heights. "_Just_ to _nudge_! Stryker was halfway to reserving the church for a wedding for next week! He was freaking out about flowers and music and rings and whether or not scented candles were better than unscented! Maybe he needed the black balloons _no_ the white ones are better except she hates white so maybe he needed pink or blue or yellow or _the whole goddamn rainbow!_"

Throughout her rant Sonya had advanced on Johnny until the actor's knees hit the couch and he fell heavily onto his backside. Even so, Johnny shrunk into the cushions as Sonya towered frighteningly over him.

"I _told_ you and Jax not to mess with him, that he and Darcy could get along just fine without you interfering! Did you know, Darcy had never even _mentioned_ dating? Usually when a woman wants to take the next step, _she drops hints!_ Stryker never noticed _any_ hints _whatsoever!_ No exchanging of keys, no meeting relatives, no extravagant gifts, _nothing_! Do you think Stryker's so dense about women that he couldn't pick up on any hints she dropped? Well, do you? _Do you!_"

"No!" Johnny squeaked, wondering why his willpower wasn't sufficient enough to meld him into the couch.

Sonya's shoulders rose and fell heavily, fire raging in her eyes. "I hope you're happy. Here I was, sitting and looking forward to a day of peace and quiet, and instead I get a phone call from a hyperventilating friend terrified that he's been a horrible person to a woman who's going to leave him for a nonexistent significant other! I had to do serious damage control, which was insanely difficult considering Stryker was _convinced_ he had been leading Darcy on and keeping her from having a happy life with a man more deserving than him! And I have _you_ to thank!"

Lifting the book once more, she watched as Johnny cringed and wrapped his arms around his head. Sighing once again, she dropped the book onto the recliner she had been occupying and sat down next to him. She asked imploringly, "Johnny, please, next time you think someone needs your dating advice: don't. Just . . . don't."

Gulping, Johnny nodded. He asked hesitantly, "Can I hug you now?"

"Yes, you can hug me now."

Cautiously, Johnny wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her hair. "I hate it when you're mad at me, you know."

"I hate it when you do stupid things and make me mad at you. But I've forgiven you and I'm willing to forget this whole thing if you are."

"Okay. I can do that." They sat in silence for a while more, then Johnny asked, "Where are the kids?"

"At Jax's place."

"Did you—"

"Yes, he got a good pounding, too. When I informed Ruby of your antics, she got in a few punches, too. I thought having the kids over there rather than here would be better for them."

"Good." Johnny paused, then ventured, "Er, Sonya, I want to get this behind us as much as you do, but . . . what'd you tell Stryker to do?"

"Told him to talk to Darcy and see what her opinion on the matter was, _which is what **you and Jax**_ should have told him," Sonya scowled. "Men."

"Sorry?" Johnny smiled nervously. At her 'no, I'm not going to be won over that easy' look, Johnny added, "How about a day all to yourself tomorrow? I'll take the kids to the park, I'll program the phone to forward all calls to my cell, and you'll only have to worry about your own cell. How's that?"

"It's a good start," Sonya said grudgingly, settling into the curve of his torso.

"And a hot bath?" Johnny rubbed her arms, kissing the hollow of her collar bone.

"Mm hmm," Sonya nodded, eyes closing.

"And you can have the run of the bed, too," Johnny suggested, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

"Not much of a special treat," Sonya muttered at him.

He whispered something in her ear, causing her brow to arch high. She opened her eyes, the brow still curved upward in incredulity. "Really?"

"Really," Johnny nodded.

"Hmm," Sonya tilted her head speculatively. "I think you've got yourself a deal, bad boy."

"Mmm, good," Johnny kissed her. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

"Mm, wait," Sonya grabbed his arm, preventing him from rising. "One other little thing you have to do."

"What?" Johnny frowned. "I've already given you—"

"Not for me," Sonya corrected. "You've got a _lot_ of apologies to make to Stryker. You and Jax both."

Johnny sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

"Jax has the expenses-paid weekend at the Willard InterContinental Washington reserved for he and Darcy," Sonya informed him with a kiss on the cheek. "You're going to cover the hockey tickets and all related expenses to the Ranger's next home game."

Nearly arguing (no sort of panic attack could be worth such an expensive exchange) Johnny looked into his wife's face and realized that she would not budge on the matter. Sighing, Johnny kissed her and said, "Alright, it'll get done. V.I.P. seats and all. Satisfied?"

"Undeniably," Sonya rose, pulling gently on Johnny's collar. "C'mon. I've got that hot bath waiting, and there's not going to be any fun tonight if I don't get that first."

Johnny tried to hold onto his dismay that his goodwill intentions had been flushed down Stryker's insecurity toilet, but he could only grin.

Tonight would be good. Very, _very_ good.


	4. Coffee and Cheesecake

Thanks to evangeline/MiniJ19, who helped me iron out bits of this chapter. It wouldn't have been as great without her.

_

* * *

_

_Six Months Later_

Watching the two go at it from his place at the kitchen table, Johnny Cage had a newfound appreciation for two things in life.

He thanked God (or whatever other deity there was high above responsible for his situation) that he missed the draft by what few years he had.

Johnny also respected that he was not one Major Jackson Briggs, superior officer to Lieutenant Sonya Blade.

"Dammit, Jax, I can do this!" Sonya snarled as she slammed a fist on the tabletop, making Johnny flinch. Jax kept his cool (though his left eye had twitched _just_ slightly) and kept his tone gentle.

"Sonya, I'm not letting you in on the program. You'll live without it."

"Give me two good reasons why I shouldn't be on the program," Sonya growled.

"One, you're twenty-four weeks pregnant; you've been on maternity leave for the past four weeks. Two, you're not even remotely interested in exploring Zaterra. You just want in on the program so you can sneak into your office and scare the recruits _which_, by the way, is something both the General and I don't appreciate. It's difficult enough to recruit young people into the O.I.A. We don't need you frightening them off to the Navy or the National Guard."

"As if Stryker's any more interested than I am!" Sonya exclaimed, though Johnny noted she didn't disagree about the terrorizing. "He can barely stand watching the Discovery Channel! How is he going to be able to sit around for days on end and wait for the diplomats to finish trade and peace agreements with the Saurians and another eternity for the scientists to be done with their science crap?"

"It'll give him some leadership experience," Jax told her, never losing his patient tone. "Plus the others in the team will have someone who knows about passing through realms, and the Saurians a somewhat familiar face to trust. Now, please, give it a rest. All the positions have filled."

Sonya huffed, glaring up at Jax. "Only because you begged Stryker to sign on two weeks ago in order to avoid this very argument, _which_ you've failed to do. If he hadn't agreed, you'd have _had_ to let me do this."

"No, we just would've had one less experienced man on the field," Jax refuted neatly, rising from his seat with his coffee mug. He rinsed out the dish, put it on the drying rack, and patted Sonya kindly on her shoulder. "Sonya, relax. You have three more months to go, and then you can join all the missions you want, short of you collapsing from exhaustion and neglecting your very wonderful family. Until then, _enjoy_ your maternity leave, and take it easy. No more sneaking onto the base, alright?"

Sonya grumbled, and as Jax exited the kitchen he looked over his shoulder to wink at Johnny. The actor sighed; while Jax had managed to talk Sonya out of forcing her way into the O.I.A., he was now left with a very sulky pregnant woman who could easily snap his wrist if he tried too hard in making her feel better.

"C'mon, why don't we go see what Lil and Russ are doing?" Johnny suggested gently, taking Sonya by her elbow and breathing a sigh of relief when she followed willingly.

As they made their way to the playroom Sonya shot him a glare and said, "You know, if you hadn't messed up Stryker's relationship with Darcy and made me mad six months ago, and then proposed sex on your damn private jet as a way to cool my temper, I'd be on that program."

"You're the one who wanted to join the Mile-High club. I just obliged you, and it was a surprise for us that both our protections failed. Let's put that behind us and be happy we're going to have a new little boy in three months."

"Daniel Carlton Cage," Sonya nodded, rubbing her belly with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I just hate–"

"Being pregnant and not being able to do your job, I know," Johnny grinned. She smiled back, punching him lightly on his shoulder. "Did you decide what you want to buy for Sindel, yet?" Johnny changed the subject, referring to Liu and Kitana's daughter who was experiencing her very first birthday this coming November thirtieth.

"A new teddy bear," Sonya nodded. "Every child needs their very own teddy bear. But poor Kitana and Liu are having a hard time with Chow. Apparently Chow's not liking all the attention she's getting, poor little guy."

"We'll make sure to get Lilith to play with Chow, then," Johnny brainstormed. "It'll give him a playmate, and she'll distract him from Sindel. I'm not too worried, though. Siblings grow out of their resentment quickly."

Sonya nodded. "I think Russell's a little too young to play with Chow and Lilith, though. Maybe he and Elliot can team up and entertain Sindel."

Their musings were interrupted when they entered the playroom, caught off guard by the destruction they found in the room that had been immaculate when they left the children there a mere two hours ago.

Russell had discovered painting on his birthday four months ago, courtesy of his Uncle Liu, and hadn't let his child-safe finger-paint collection out of his sight since. In spite of only being two years old, Russell had managed to figure out a way to unscrew the caps of the paint jars (Sonya and he decided Lilith had a hand in helping her brother) and use his hands to leave globs and smears of reds, blues, yellows, and all the other colors throughout the house. Johnny found himself either hiring a maid or cleaning up the "masterpieces" and the causal damage himself daily, and Russell seemed no closer to understanding that painting was to be done on _paper_ canvases, not on the _walls_.

Lilith was no better. Four years old, inquisitive as ever, and now understanding that she actually _could_ reach high places if she stacked up enough sturdy things, Lilith had evidently been able to maneuver around, under, through, and/or above the partitions in the playroom to find Johnny's toolset on top of the master bedroom closet, two doors away. Johnny suspected that if he went into the master bedroom, he'd see a chair set up next to Russell's old highchair in a mockery of a staircase, several books on top of the highchair's table, and a few of Sonya's child-proofed (and thief-proofed) briefcases put on to p of the books, all together stacked in front of the closet. If Sonya and Johnny hadn't been so horrified to find their daughter with hammer in hand, they would have been proud of their daughter's ingenuity.

She now busied herself by taking apart an emptied, hand-crafted toy chest inexpertly, resorting to a hammer or wrench if something didn't pop out immediately–which was quite often, if the dented wood was any clue. In addition to the toy chest, a Barbie doll had been taken completely apart and made very-near bald, a remote-control truck was demolished, and a toy house was gradually falling apart from a lack of screws and (more importantly) sturdy walls.

The two parents watched their children wreck havoc on the playroom, both uncertain whether to laugh or shout. Johnny finally turned to Sonya and said, "I think they have a little too much energy."

"Outdoor skate rink?"

"Outdoor skate rink."

* * *

_Next Day_

Sonya answered the door, smiling demurely as she saw Stryker on the other side. "Hey, Kurt. Come in."

The other man did so in trepidation, taking care to give Sonya some space. "So, uh, you called?" At _five in the morning_ for something? Hopefully not along the lines of threatening me with bodily harm if I don't drive you to the O.I.A. immediately? Because Jax already told me I'm to refuse staunchly and will have all medical bills paid if and when you do hit me, or else face janitorial work for the next three months."

"No, I'm not going to ask you for that," Sonya frowned, thinking to herself, _Damn. There goes that plan._ "Let's go to the kitchen. You want some coffee? It's going to be decaffeinated, unfortunately, since Johnny didn't take any risks and threw out all the caffeinated beverages we had once we had the pregnancy confir–goddamn it, Raiden!"

The Thunder God grinned from his place at the coffeepot, giving them both a wave. "Morning. And I'm a little busy pouring myself some coffee, so you're going to have to damn whatever 'it' is yourself, or get a different god to do the damning for you."

Sonya scowled at the god even as Stryker gulped and edged further away from the temperamental woman. "You scared me. Don't you have your own coffee up in the Heavens? Or at least your own money to buy coffee elsewhere?"

Raiden sniffed, replacing the coffeepot in its station. "My fellow gods and goddesses are reluctant to branch away from ambrosia–caffeine's a rare substance up there, much less coffee. And why waste my energy creating little slips of currency when I can get it for free here?"

"He's got a point," Stryker agreed, wincing as Sonya turned her glare back on him.

"You're not helping," Sonya growled, and switched back to addressing Raiden within the same breath. "And that's decaffeinated, Raiden. In order to avoid any mishaps with my pregnancy."

Raiden sipped his drink, completely unaffected by her statement. "Not this cup."

Sighing and realizing she wouldn't be able to kick the Thunder God out of her house unless he willed it, Sonya told him, "Fine, then you can sit down and answer the same question as Stryker–"

"I'm not opening a portal into your office in order for you to avoid all the security and Jax's watchful eye," Raiden interrupted smoothly, taking a seat at the table. "For one thing, Jax would notice a portal opening with all that portal-detecting technology in the O.I.A. For another, I'm in no mood to entertain Johnny's temper if I did."

_Dammit! How many of my alternate plans am I going to have to go through? All the way to Plan N?_ "I never asked Stryker to let me into the O.I.A., Raiden. And Stryker, did you want any coffee?" Sonya said in an overly-polite tone.

"Uh, I already had some," Stryker replied, sitting down cautiously on a chair to Raiden's right. "So, er, if you didn't want to ask me about breaking into the O.I.A.–"

"It wouldn't be _breaking_ into," Sonya muttered.

"–then what _did_ you want to ask?"

Hesitantly, Sonya took a seat across from him and to the left of Raiden. She said, "It's. . . somewhat personal, but since Jax is at the O.I.A. and won't let me anywhere within a hundred-yard radius of the facility–"

"With good reason," Stryker interjected, recoiling when Sonya glared at him. Raiden chuckled, making Sonya turn her gaze at him. His chuckles stopped abruptly.

"–and I don't want to talk about this on the phone, and I thought it'd be better with someone I've known for a while, which leaves out Ruby, so you were the only one left. And Raiden," she added with a nod to the god.

Wondering what Sonya was fretting over, Stryker mentally eased his tension and prompted, "And the question is?" Raiden cocked his head to the side, also curious.

Biting her lip, Sonya asked, "Do you guys think Russell and Lilith are spoiled?"

Having not expected this topic, Stryker took a while to comprehend the question and formulate an answer that wouldn't result in a quick but painful emasculation. Raiden gave him a moment to recover, asking, "What brought this on, Sonya?"

Scowling, Sonya recalled the events of yesterday in the skating arena. "Johnny and I took them out to the ice-skating rink, so they could burn off some energy and not tear down the house around our ears. We let Lilith talk us into getting some sweets for them both, and I heard a couple with a few older children say how we were spoiling the kids."

"Just buying a few sweets made them think they were spoiled?" Stryker frowned.

Tapping her fingers together, Sonya added, "Lilith and Russell were both dressed in some . . . trendier clothes that Johnny insisted would make the kids look better. That might have helped the image some." At Stryker's and Raiden's doubtful stares, Sonya finished, "And Lilith was talking about everything that their uncles and aunts let them do. Like how Kitana bought Lilith that parakeet last year–"

"The one she was allergic to and had to let go," Stryker nodded in remembrance.

"–and two Christmases ago, when you got Russell his own functioning toy convertible, Raiden. And, well, I guess the couple might have been right," Sonya exhaled resignedly. "I wanted someone else's opinion, though. That's where you two come in."

Stryker and Raiden exchanged looks, both slightly wary. Stryker told her, "Sonya, you've got to take into account what kind of upbringing Lilith and Russ have. I mean, sheesh, for starters they have an A-list celebrity for a father who has an ego the size of–er, where _is_ Johnny?"

"Toronto, for the shooting of his next movie," Raiden answered. At the mortals' uplifted brows, Raiden hitched a thumb to the refrigerator behind him. "He left a nicely blue-inked post-it note. You are also out of orange juice, eggs, Tabasco sauce, and little green army-men toys."

Blinking, Stryker asked quizzically, "How can you run out of army-men toys?"

"Lilith's taken a liking to flushing them down the toilet," Sonya told him. "Makes for one hell of a plumbing bill. You were saying?"

"Ah, right. Again, an ego the size of Texas, and their mother is a Lieutenant in the Special Forces who can kick ass like none other."

"And _then_," Raiden picked up where Stryker left off, "one needs to understand they have an aunt who is acting-Queen to the throne of the _entire_ realm of Edenia. She's also married to the Champion of Mortal Kombat, who can change into a dragon if the situation warranted it."

"They have an uncle who is Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei and can ice over–_literally_–any boyfriends or bullies who pick on his surrogate niece and nephew," Stryker ticked off the thumb of one hand, having counted all five on his hand for visual effect.

Raiden nodded, adding, "Another uncle is shaman of his tribe and a technological genius, which is a pretty good double threat in this day and age. They have their Uncle Jax, who is a Major in the Special Forces, has arm implants to advance his strength, and has a former spy as his wife."

"And then they have me," Stryker added with a complacent shrug. "Their not-quite-as-impressive but highly approachable uncle who has connections to all the legit and less-than-lawful sides of New York society."

"And the cream of the crop, me," Raiden finished simply, tossing back the last of his coffee in one go. He rose and refilled the mug. The mortals saw him do nothing in particular with the coffee, but when he returned to the table he drunk the sustenance contentedly.

"Yeah, what he said," Stryker nodded.

Sonya thought over what the two said. "So . . . they have the potential to be spoiled thoroughly."

Stryker sighed, and Raiden let his eyes roll heavenward as he said, "Sonya, they have an incredibly good life, surrounded by adults who will look after them constantly. Whether or not they grow up thinking everything is meant to be easy for them and they can do no wrong is up to you and Johnny."

"That's what I'm worried about," Sonya admitted. "That they'll think everything and everyone will simply bend over and let them do what they wish when they grow up. Dammit, I didn't think like this before."

"It's probably just the pregnancy talking," Stryker shrugged. "But, hey, if they do grow up spoiled rotten, you could always do what my dad did."

"What's that?" Sonya arched a brow.

"Drop them off in some huge city with ten bucks and leave them there to fend for themselves."

"Your father did that to you?" Sonya asked skeptically.

Again, Stryker shrugged, smiling mysteriously. "Maybe I'm lying through my teeth. Maybe a chapter in my memoirs will detail the epic struggles I had to go through in the ghettos of New York after my family spurned me. Either way, what I'm trying to say is Russell and Lilith are good kids, and they'll survive wherever their futures take them, spoiled rotten or not. They'll survive, because they know you and Johnny love them and that's all that matters."

Sonya flickered her eyes to Raiden to see if he suspected any bullshitting in Stryker's story, but Raiden's face was a blank mask. She had expected as much–Raiden preferred to keep what he knew of his mortals secret, as a goodwill gesture toward them. He only meddled when he felt necessary, and usually under the right circumstances. Or whenever he felt particularly spiteful, a side of Raiden which they all did their best to avoid setting off.

Choosing to take comfort in their words, which she _had_ known herself, but needed some moral support from others, Sonya smiled her gratitude. "Thanks. I feel much better now."

"Good," Stryker nodded perfunctorily. "Wouldn't want Cage Shadow Kicking my ass for making you feel like crap, since Raiden can teleport and leave me to suffer alone. Now, is that cheesecake I see on the counter?"

"You won't want that," Sonya told him as he got up to investigate the dessert, rising with him. Raiden looked over from his seat, his curiosity piqued but not enough to warrant leaving his coffee. She brought down a plate for herself and retrieved a sharp knife and fork.

"Why not?" Stryker asked, sniffing the cheesecake. "Smells good."

"It's apple-mayonnaise cheesecake," Sonya informed him nonchalantly, cutting herself a slice.

Gagged spluttering alerted the mortals Raiden had choked on his coffee in surprise. Taking an abrupt step backward, Stryker tried not to vomit in his mouth as he demanded, "Who the hell makes an apple-mayonnaise cheesecake? That's not even a flavor!"

"Johnny hired a chef who's extraordinarily creative," Sonya replied, swiping a piece onto her fork. "The baby wanted apple-mayonnaise cheesecake, so the baby gets apple-mayonnaise cheesecake."

Lips drawn in a firm line to prevent himself from gagging, Stryker left the kitchen resolutely. Finally rising from his seat in order to better peer at the cheesecake, Raiden shuddered and followed Stryker–after refilling his mug for the third time. Pausing, Sonya shrugged and continued to eat her cheesecake in contentment, trailing after them while asking Stryker, "Hey, Strike, do you know if Sergeant Brocker is on duty Friday? And if he finally bought that Plasma screen television he was mulling over?"

* * *

I'm fairly certain there is no apple-mayonnaise cheesecake in the world. I am also not knowledgeable in matters of pregnancies (and what women really crave). However, I was trying to think of something that Sonya could be craving (being pregnant and all) and I recalled a little community dish I had in a Korean restaurant that my mother said was apple slices covered in mayonnaise. It wasn't terrible . . . but I wouldn't have it in my cheesecake. 

For those wondering (or possibly hoping? 'shrugs' too bad) when the end will come, I have at the very least three scenarios planned, two of which are partially written. After the children are all (mostly) grown up, the end will come, or at least be very near. Sad, but necessary I'm afraid.

If you're confused by the time continuity in this fic (because, admittedly, I was for a good while) I've done what I could to make a timeline, using birthdays of the children as reference points. The years serve only as placeholders; it could be further in the future or past, depending on your preferences. Updates will occur later in the fic as needed.

Oct. 24th, 1999–Lilith Cage is born; events of _Chapter 1_ occur  
Jan. 18th, 2000–Chow Kang is born  
Aug. 26th, 2001–Russell Cage is born  
Sept. 5th, 2002–Elliot Briggs is born  
Sept. 2002–Events of _Chapter 2_ occur  
Nov. 30th, 2002–Sindel Kang is born  
May, 2003–Events of _Chapter 3_ occur  
November 2003–Events of _Chapter 4_ occur


End file.
